


The Third

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Comment Fic 2016 [71]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 12:52:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8057125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Stargate Atlantis, Evan Lorne/David Parrish/Ronon Dex, 'The Third'."Ronon realizes how lonely he was as a Runner. Evan Lorne has rules - and someone else. Parrish protects who and what he loves. Ronon finally learns it's okay to stay.Set in Season 2.





	The Third

When they were finally back on Atlantis, Ronon made straight for the showers. The debriefing was going to take forever, he knew it, and he didn't think he could sit through it, because it was still there, buzzing in his veins. Wraith enzyme. Poison. From the enemy he'd run from for years and years and years. The enemy who'd destroyed his home and stolen his life and now it was inside of him and he couldn't think, couldn't be. He had to get it out, out, out –  
  
He didn't know how long he stood there, under the water, until someone called his name.  
  
"Ronon? Are you all right?"  
  
It was that soldier, Lorne. Ronon remembered how startled he was the first time he'd seen Lorne, because his eyes, like Rodney's, were blue, only somehow brighter and darker, like the sea. No one on Sateda had blue eyes. Ronon had seen a few blue-eyes here and there on his travels, but no one with eyes like Lorne's.  
  
Lorne was standing just beyond the showers, shirtless, holding a towel.  
  
Ronon had been amused by how short Lorne was in comparison to him, but he wasn't a weak man, was broad and strong. This was the first time Ronon realized that Lorne had tattoos. As far as Ronon knew, no one on Atlantis had any special markings on their skin.  
  
And suddenly Ronon realized, with aching clarity, how long it had been since he'd been with another person. He pushed himself to his feet, turned off the water, and shook the excess off his body.  
  
Given how the soldiers used these communal showers all the time when they didn't want to track some off-planet nastiness back to their personal quarters, Lorne was unalarmed by Ronon's approach. Instead, he reached for one of the towels on the stack near the entrance to the showers and held it out.  
  
"Here," he said, and his voice was gentle. Everyone knew what had happened to Sheppard's team. Everyone knew everything on this base.  
  
Or they thought they did.  
  
Ronon ignored the towel, stepped right into Lorne's space, caught him by the shoulders, and kissed him.  
  
For one moment, Lorne went rigid in surprise. Then, for another moment, his mouth went soft and sweet beneath Ronon's, and he parted his lips. The next moment, he was back several steps, out of Ronon's reach, eyes wide, chest heaving.  
  
"Ronon, I – no. I'm sorry. I can't do that. There are rules, for my military. Maybe yours didn't have them, but I – and, and there's someone already."  
  
Ronon forced himself to take a deep breath, calm himself. "Right. Sorry. I didn't mean –"  
  
Lorne's gaze flicked over him appreciatively, but then he said, sounding truly regretful, "I'm sorry. I can't imagine what you've been through. I –" He thrust his towel at Ronon and fled.  
  
And that was that. Or so Ronon thought. He finished his shower, had an awkward discussion with Sheppard about this thing called Don't Ask Don't Tell, and submitted to the briefing with Elizabeth with as much patience as he could muster. He was on the way to the training hall to try to burn off some tension so he could sleep when he was blindsided.  
  
He reacted instinctively, pinned his attacker against the wall.  
  
"What the hell?"  
  
His attacker was a thin, tall, brown-haired man who was wearing blue patches on his jacket. A scientist?  
  
"I should be asking you the same," the man spat. "Evan told me what you did to him. He was so apologetic, like he'd cheated on me. I get that you're tall and gorgeous and built like a brick house and probably could have anyone you wanted back home, but out here, Evan is all I have, and you had no right to do that to him. You could have cost him his entire career with your thoughtlessness. Keep your damn hands off what's mine, understood?"  
  
The fire in the man's eyes might have been amusing, for how small and weak he was, but Ronon knew his anger was genuine. It took a moment, and then he realized. The man was David Parrish, some kind of plant scientist. He was on Lorne's gate team. Lorne. Evan Lorne. Ronon hadn't known what Lorne's first name was. No one ever used it, not like they did for Sheppard sometimes.

Ronon stepped back, hands raised in surrender but ready to fight if necessary. "I understand," he said. "And I'm sorry. I didn't know – about the two of you, or the rules." Then he narrowed his eyes. "But you two, and the rules...?"  
  
"No one can know," David said, low and vicious. Then he stepped around Ronon and walked away.  
  
Again, foolishly, Ronon thought that was that.  
  
And then Lorne went missing. Presumed dead. Turned out, the Genii had taken him. Word spread across the city when he was found safe and sound, and Ronon wondered how no one realized what was going on when David was one of the ones who visited Lorne in the infirmary. Yes, the rest of Lorne's gate team was there, but David stood closest, stayed longest. Ronon, still feeling guilty over upsetting Lorne (who wouldn't look at him for days and he'd missed those blue eyes) those months ago, eventually herded everyone else out of the infirmary so David and Lorne could be alone. He turned to go, but David caught his arm.  
  
Lorne was dozing, but David kept his voice low anyway.  
  
"Meet me in my quarters once they release him," he said.  
  
Ronon suspected this was going to be a terrible idea, but he nodded, because he'd missed those blue eyes, and it had been so long since he'd even been near anyone like that, and once Lorne had been able to meet his gaze again, he'd been nothing but nice. Asked about Sateda sometimes.  
  
Ronon wasn't sure what he expected. Should have expected David's commanding air. So he obeyed orders, sat on the bed, and waited. Watched. Lorne stumbled through the door into the dimness, exhaustion writ in every line of his body. He toed off his boots and shed his shirt and stepped into David's embrace for a desperate kiss, a reassurance. I'm home. You're home. We're safe. David turned them, walked them toward the bed, and Lorne sat abruptly when the mattress hit the backs of his knees. David raised his head from the kiss, nodded at Ronon, and leaned down to kiss Lorne once more. So Ronon eased forward, rested his hands lightly on Lorne's waist, felt him start.  
  
"What? David –" Lorne twisted around, wide-eyed when he saw Ronon.  
  
"It's all right, Evan."  
  
"But –"  
  
"You need this. I always give you what you need," David said, and he ran his hands up Lorne's chest, made his breath hitch.  
  
Ronon took his cue and leaned in, captured Lorne's mouth. What happened after that was a pleasant, hazy blur, hands tangling as they undressed each other, limbs tangling as they lay back on the bed. Ronon learned skin and scent and sensation, the way Lorne's skin flushed as he neared his peak, the way David melted when someone kissed that spot just behind his ear, the way his own heart soared when he and David moved with Lorne between them.  
  
In the morning, it should have been awkward, the end of one night's desperation, but David opened his eyes and grinned and then he made the first move, tangled a hand in Ronon's dreadlocks and dragged him in for a kiss, and suddenly Ronon had a place, had a home.  
  
They all kept their own quarters, went about their duties with a scrupulousness Ronon's old superior officers would've found incredible, but whenever they needed each other, they could seek each other out, in twos or threes as they chose, and Ronon learned the joy of painting (and being painted on) and how fun sex could be after he'd ingested the right kind of plant leaves and that finally, it was okay to stop running, it was okay to stay.


End file.
